


In My World

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt 'in the drink' and <a href="http://sdqb.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://sdqb.livejournal.com/"><b>sdqb</b></a> 444 prompt 'endure'.  Inspired by the song My World by SR-71</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My World

She watches them from her vantage point. The way they lean towards each other, smiles that say, even in the middle of a crowd, no else exists. Her heart clenches though her outward appearance doesn't change. Unruffled and untouchable, that's her, Dorothy Catalonia. Born of aristocracy and one of the most powerful women in the ESUN; feared and admired, but from a distance. Always with a level of reserve.

A glance at her companion and a nod of her head completes the illusion she cares about the dribble she's stopped listening to almost as soon as it started. Her attention is across the room. They're dancing now, moving in sync as they always have. The slow sway of hips, hands under the coats of expensive tuxedos in a way that screams intimacy with just a hint of possessiveness.

He doesn't know that she's here. Neither one of them do. Not that it would matter. Politics being what they are, it would be impossible not to run into each other occasionally. Her pride would not allow her to hide from the world. She might have lost this battle, but she still had other agendas to forward, and she would not put them aside because of a personal issue. She had endured much worse than watching the two of them dancing, touching, and kissing.

Finishing off her drink, she captured another from a passing tray. The champagne was exquisite, but then she would have expected nothing less. Tonight she would find her solace there, in the embrace of the drink in her hand. They were well suited, cold, intoxicating, and if pushed to their limits, deadly.

The two men continue to move on the dance floor and she memorizes the way they look together. Idly she wonders if he knows how it feels to be brought to his knees by compassion. She hates him and loves him in turns for the things he's said. The way he had seen past her defenses and facades to her core. The darkness of her soul brought to light, and then dissipated in the brightness of his light.

Forgiveness and understanding, the things she feared most, had been laid at her feet in gentle offering. How could someone whose hands were stained with the blood of the men and women he'd killed, be kind? He should be hard and bitter, jaded by the things the world had done to him. And yet, he wasn't. He laughed, he cried, and he loved, deeply and with a passion she could not fathom. The proof was there in front of her, undeniable.

They spin and his eyes meet and hold hers. His smile widens for a second, a greeting just for her, no anger or hatred despite it all. The glass slips from her hand and shatters on the floor, champagne splashing everywhere and then he's gone. Yet, in that split second, she could feel it again. The way he looked inside her, accepting and understanding all the things about her that she will never be able to fully grasp about him.

She pushes her way through the crowd, head held high, using her soiled dress as an excuse to escape. If he would just hate her she could have some peace, secure in the knowledge that there was no difference between them. Kindness was not stronger than hate. Peace did not have the power to win out over the call to war. Humanity could not be that capable of change on that level.

Could it?


End file.
